When I was a kid
I didn’t think there was anything there
where air reigns,
just the space between shapes and lives.
I didn’t think space mattered.

I didn’t see that I wouldn’t see
anything at all
if not held by space,
there would be no square or round or prism,
no face,

no place for love to grow between,
no words or songs or might have been,
no beauty.

I didn’t know
that air was so full
when it looked so empty,
that it carried chemicals
for our breath, our plants, our fire,
for rain,

that it held up planes and slowed down cars,
that it pushed without weighing
anything at all,
that it moved to give wind
and rippled to bring sound
to my ear.

I didn’t understand
that air invisibly enables
all things.